Verse: forming

when i
am not awake

there is
no sky to fall into

i am bent upon
the anvil of the earth

lost amid sparks
of artificial fires

and the musk
of old acquaintances

with no sound
in my mouth

except
a song of sand

i wrote out
on my arm

to sing to you
later

when i know
its intent is pure

and i can see
no trace

of moon in
your eye.